


Profound Bond

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Apocalypse Wars [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angel True Forms, Angst, Castiel Whump, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Profound Bond, Protective Gabriel, Protective Winchesters, Seasons 4-5, grace as spirit animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12471192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: An attempt to kill the Devil has deadly consequences for the Winchesters and Castiel.





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

THEN

_The severely weakened human made it through the Devil's Gate and halfway up the slope of the crater before his legs started to give out and Castiel had to drag him the rest of the way. Demons would be after them any moment. Castiel weighed the risk and decided a small jump through the ether was necessary._

_Gathering the fading human in his arms, Castiel leaped, carrying them only a mile from the Devil's Gate. But it should give them enough of a head start._

_Castiel cradled his charge as gently as he could whilst he continued to make his way through a wooded area in search of a place to take shelter. The woods were safer than any towns would be at the moment._

_He found a small hollow underneath an ancient sycamore and eased the human's broken body onto a soft bed of leaves. Castiel rocked back, unsure what to do. He had rescued the human, yes, but the man's condition was grave, his injuries critical. The nature of Hell's plane of existence had kept him from 'dying,' but now that they were back on the earthly plane, he could succumb to his injuries._

_Castiel faltered. He had saved the righteous soul from Hell…but was that enough? He thought of the man's brother, shouting for him. Dean. Castiel gazed down at the brave, battered mortal, and imagined how his brother was feeling, thinking his kin had been lost to him. Forever. Much as Castiel was feeling about Anna, not knowing if she was still alive._

_And so Castiel made a decision._

_…_

_Hell's tortures were designed for human souls. Dean may have been bodily dragged into the Pit, but his soul was just as damaged as his physical shell. Castiel's heart clenched as he ghosted his grace over the wounds of sundered flesh and shredded aura. This wasn't going to be easy._

_Resting his hands gently on the human's ravaged chest, Castiel summoned forth his grace and sent tendrils of angelic energy into the wounds. He felt the sear left behind from smoldering irons, the fiery sting of raw lacerations. He slowly and carefully trickled the cool balm of his grace over the frayed nerve endings and jagged flesh, and gradually began to stitch the torn body back together._

_It was long, arduous work, as the demon Alastair had been brutally thorough in his machinations. But it was nothing compared to when Castiel finally reached the human's soul. Knitting that back together would be an even more delicate process._

_Castiel narrowed his gaze and focused on his task. Azure threads wove throughout an aura pulsing with shades of green, brown along some edges where it had tasted the beginnings of corruption unavoidable in the Pit._

_Castiel kept at it, he couldn't say how long. The night was silent and dark outside their small hollow. Inside, the encapsulated nook was permeated with the soft pearly glow of his grace suffusing between him and his charge. Yet bit by bit, the lines of pain etched into the human's face began to smooth out._

_…_

_It took almost two weeks for Castiel to realize the ramifications of what he'd done. He had been traveling with Dean Winchester in that time, helping the man search for his brother. Castiel had gone ahead to scout a town. He'd only been gone three minutes before he felt a jolt through his senses, a ping in the back of his mind urging him to go back the way he'd come._

_Gripped by trepidation, Castiel immediately returned to where he'd left Dean, and found the human battling a handful of demons. Together, they made quick work of the beasts._

_"Thanks," Dean said, wiping his machete clean on the grass. "How'd you know to come back so fast?"_

_Castiel frowned. "I sensed you were in trouble."_

_"Oh. That an angel thing?"_

_"No."_

_…It was something else entirely._

_…_

NOW

Dean and Sam followed Cas as the angel guided them through a small grove, stopping at the edge of the tree line where it opened up onto the property of an old, rich house. From the outside, the place looked in disrepair, with ivy consuming one side, shutters suspended from single hinges, and dead underbrush raking dry branches against dirty windowpanes whenever the wind stirred.

"The demon who stole the Seal is holed up in there?" Dean asked dubiously. It was out of the way of town where most of the mayhem that demons loved so much could be had.

"Yes," Cas replied. "From what I've learned, he's in hiding. Alastair, at least, had been hunting him, but there might be others."

Dean couldn't help the reflexive shudder at the demon's name, and he did his best to shake it off. It'd been weeks since their failed mission to retrieve two of the Seals that would help them re-Cage Lucifer. They'd gotten one, but the other had already been taken, apparently by a crossroads demon named Crowley.

"There's warding inscribed all over the house," Cas went on. "I can't get in."

"No worries," Dean said, pulling out his gun and checking the chamber. "We got this."

With a nod to Sam, the two brothers broke from their cover and started across the grounds to the front door. They moved quickly yet with stealthy footfalls, eyes peeled for guards or movement. The place seemed abandoned, but if there was warding, it sounded as though someone wanted to project that image.

When they reached the door, they immediately pressed themselves to either side of it. Sam reached for the handle and gave it a test crank. It creaked.

So, unlocked. Maybe the demon thought the warding was enough to keep out whoever he was hiding from. He just hadn't expected humans to come knocking.

Raising their guns packed with angel bullets, the Winchesters pushed their way inside. The foyer and adjoining rooms were dark, but candlesticks mounted on the walls down the hallway cast flickering illumination across the corridor. Dean exchanged a look with his brother before venturing forward. Everything was quiet. Maybe the demon wasn't home.

The lit passageway turned the corner, so they followed it. Up ahead was a set of double oak doors. Dean met Sam's eye and nodded. On a silent count of three, they burst through them into a private study, guns raised and sweeping the room before landing on a lone figure reclining in a luxurious leather chair with a glass tumbler of liquor in one hand. He was dressed in a fine suit with a silk tie as red as his opaque eyes.

"Don't move," Dean said. "These bullets are made of the same stuff as angel blades."

The demon merely angled an unperturbed look up at them. "There's no need for that, boys; I know what you came here for."

He started to reach inside his suit jacket, and both Dean and Sam jerked their guns sharply. The demon splayed his fingers, then resumed slowly inching them into his pocket. He pulled out a small medallion and tossed it onto the glass coffee table between them. Dean gaped in confusion at the piece that looked almost identical to the other Seal, and exchanged a bewildered look with his brother, who appeared equally taken aback.

It was stupid to let the surprising move put them off balance. In the next instant, a vaporous red viper shot up from behind the demon and struck out, slamming into them with enough force to knock them into the wall. It snaked around to lash at their weapons, sending the guns flying across the room. Dean clutched a throbbing wrist to his chest.  _Shit_.

The demon casually got to his feet as his amorphous form returned to a dormant state. "Your idea to put Lucifer back in the Cage is admirable," he said blithely. "But I have another suggestion—kill the Devil."

Dean's brows shot upward. Wait, what?

"Excuse me?" Sam spluttered.

The demon reached for a rectangular wooden box on the coffee table. Dean watched suspiciously as he opened the lid, but then his jaw went slack in stupefaction as Crowley pulled out an old revolver Dean never thought he'd see again.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded.

The demon smirked. "A mutual old acquaintance of ours."

Dean glowered. That bitch, Bela.

"I don't get it," Sam spoke up. "What exactly is it that you want?"

Crowley lifted the Colt idly. "I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face."

Dean blinked. That was…different. "Uh-huh, okay. And why exactly would you want the Devil dead?"

"It's called survival."

Dean exchanged a confused look with Sam. "Come again?"

"Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?"

Sam quirked a perplexed brow at him. "But he created you."

The demon rolled his eyes. "To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit!" he snapped, voice rising an octave. He straightened his shoulders. "So what do you say if I give you this thing, and you go kill the devil? I'll even throw in the Seal as a gesture of good faith."

Crowley held the Colt out, handle first. Dean shared another uncertain look with Sam, but hey, it sounded like the demon was already on the shit-list of some other big bad demons, maybe because of his views on Lucifer. And if he really was offering them a way to ice the Devil, they couldn't say no to it.

They slowly started to get up off the floor. Crowley wiggled the gun at them. Dean watched tensely as Sam hesitantly reached out to take it.

"Great," Sam said.

"Great," Crowley echoed.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the Devil is, by chance, would you?" Sam asked.

"The grapevine says to currently avoid the area of North Platte, Nebraska."

Sam looked back at Dean. Well, it sounded as though they'd gotten what they came for, and a whole lot more. Dean nodded.

"Great," Sam said again. He raised the barrel to the demon's forehead and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked.

Dean stared at it in dismay, while Crowley appeared wholly impassive.

"Oh, yeah, right," he remarked lackadaisically. "You'll probably need some more ammunition." He turned to walk over to the desk behind the leather chair.

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked. Crap, this was suddenly awkward. He glanced at how far out of reach their guns with angel bullets were. Too far.

He looked back in time to catch something thrown at him. It was a small box, and when Dean opened it, he found bullets for the Colt inside.

"Now," Crowley said, crimson eyes boring into them. "Get out of my house."

With that, he burst into a smoky viper that reared up and shot a spitting hiss out over their heads. Dean and Sam ducked, but the vermillion cloud twisted away and whisked itself up through the chimney.

The Winchesters remained frozen for a moment longer, poised for another surprise attack. But it seemed Crowley was gone.

After exchanging one more bewildered look, Dean turned to snatch up the Seal while Sam retrieved their guns. Then they started making their way back through the house to the front door. They had a lot to tell Cas.

* * *

"You want to what?" Castiel asked incredulously.

The Winchester brothers glanced at each other.

"Well, it's the  _Colt_ ," Dean said. "It kills everything supernatural. We took out Azazel with it."

"And we still have no leads on the other two Seals," Sam added. "With this, we have a real shot at getting rid of Lucifer now."

"You would have to get  _close_  to Lucifer to use it."

"Crowley told us where we can find him," Dean said. "But we need to go like right now."

Castiel shook his head. That had not been his point. He didn't want the Winchesters anywhere  _near_  the Devil.

But, as he considered the antique gun in Dean's hands, Castiel had to admit that their search for the other Seals was not going well. And the longer it went on, the more destruction Lucifer could wreak. Castiel didn't necessarily think this was a good idea, but at least it was one.

The Winchesters were looking at him expectantly, so Castiel sighed.

"Alright. Where?"

"North Platte, Nebraska," Sam replied.

Castiel couldn't believe he was doing this. He reached out to grip them by the shoulders. "Hold your breath."

If they were going to catch the Devil, they needed to get to that area immediately, and that meant traveling through the ether. Castiel extended a thin film of his grace as a shield over the three of them to protect the Winchesters from the worst of the celestial currents, which were not meant for mortal passengers. He pulled them into the ethereal slipstream.

The drag created by carrying two bodies slowed Castiel down significantly, the added weight putting a strain on his muscles. But he gritted his teeth and pressed forward, wanting to get Sam and Dean through before they started to suffer from the long exposure and potentially asphyxiate.

They finally reached North Platte, and Castiel surged out of the ether and back onto the earthly plane, landing in the middle of a road. Sam and Dean stumbled beside him, and probably would have dropped were he not still gripping them tightly. Castiel waited until they'd caught their breath and balance before releasing them.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Dean nodded mutely as he sucked in a ragged gasp. "That doesn't get any easier."

Sam looked a little green around the edges as he woozily straightened.

"Traveling with two isn't usually recommended," Castiel said.

Dean shot him an indignant look. "Why didn't you say that before?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "You seemed in a hurry."

The older Winchester scowled, and lifted the Colt to check the rounds in the chamber. "Let's just do this."

Castiel turned to survey the area. The town was one that had not fared well in the Apocalypse, not that many had. Over half of the buildings were in ruins, debris everywhere. Torched remains of vehicles lined streets overrun with garbage and broken glass. It was quiet, lifeless.

"What do you think Lucifer would be doing here?" Sam asked.

"Not shopping," Dean snorted.

Castiel furrowed his brow. "He could be laying low. Or perhaps one of his crypts is located here."

"So we should start with the cemetery?" Sam said.

Castiel nodded slowly. They certainly had nothing better to go on. He took the lead and set off toward the east end of town where he had spotted the graveyard on their flight in. Sam and Dean stayed close, eyes constantly roving around their surroundings.

"Kinda thought we'd run into a demon already," Dean muttered.

"Crowley said they were keeping their distance because of Lucifer," Sam replied.

"I don't get that," Dean said in return. "Cas, was Crowley right that Lucifer hates demons? Isn't he basically their king?"

Castiel canted his head in consideration. "Yes, and there are many demons who are devoutly loyal to him. But…I believe Crowley's insight is correct. Lucifer was very angry when God created man and beast. He couldn't stand the thought that our Father had made something more beautiful than his first children. And so Lucifer tried to, not copy, but make something better, prove he was superior. Of course, Lucifer couldn't create out of nothing like God could, and so what he ended up doing was twisting and mutilating what already existed. Thus, demons were born."

Castiel still remembered the horrors of that early time, when Lucifer had first begun to parade his 'works' in front of the other angels. The creatures he had disfigured and reassembled were hideous, revolting. Everyone had been shocked to the core, unable to process the atrocity that their shining brother had the gall to commit with nothing but an exultant grin.

Dean shook his head. "Wow, sounds like Lucifer is nothing more than a punk-ass teenager throwing a tantrum."

Castiel shrugged. He imagined that's how Gabriel would describe it. "One he's never grown out of."

"Watch your mouth," a dark voice spoke from a side alley.

Castiel whirled sharply, heart leaping into his throat as Lucifer himself stepped out from behind some dumpsters. Despite his venomous tone, the Devil roved an almost curious gaze over them.

"Well, well, well, the peculiar angel and his human pets." His eyes lingered on Sam. "I see you're back on your feet." Lucifer crossed his arms. "Now what would you be doing all the way out here?"

Castiel flicked an anxious look at Dean. Now was their chance.

The Winchester shifted, but took a few steps forward, his right arm angled slightly behind his back. "Looking for you, actually."

Lucifer arched a brow. "Is that so?"

Dean nodded, and brought the Colt up to align with Lucifer's head. He fired. The magic infused bullet shot from the barrel with a thunderous crack and tore straight through the Devil's forehead. Lucifer collapsed like a sack of bones.

For a prolonged beat, the three of them simply stared at the body. Just like that, Lucifer was…dead. The final stage of the Apocalypse could be averted.

Dean turned back to gape stupidly at Castiel and Sam. They'd done it…

Lucifer sucked in an audible breath and rolled his head.

Castiel's eyes widened.

" _Owww_." The Devil slowly got to his feet, cracking his neck. His eyes flashed red with rage. "Where did you get that?" he asked incredulously.

Dean stared at the Colt in growing horror, then back at the archangel who no longer had a bullet hole in his forehead.

Lucifer smirked. "Points for gumption. Too bad for you, there's only five things in all of creation that gun can't kill, and I just happen to be one of them."

He surged forward and slammed a palm into Dean's chest, sending the hunter flying backward to crash into the side of a car, denting it.

Castiel's heart seized. He needed to get them out of here, now.

He slipped into the ether for a split second to reach Sam, yet before he could grab the younger Winchester, there was another small 'zp,' and an arm backhanded Sam away from him. Castiel found himself face to face with Lucifer. The Devil's eyes glowed red before he plunged his hand straight into Castiel's chest.

Castiel's back arched as a paralyzing spasm ripped through him like lightning. His mouth opened in a silent scream. Lucifer crooked his fingers into Castiel's grace and twisted. This time he did scream, both his human side and panther. He felt his grace sputtering around him, trying to break free from the Devil's claws. But he couldn't. Lucifer loomed over him, face alight with the flickering pulses of Castiel's grace trying to reach the surface. Hunger gleamed in the fulvous eyes.

Three pops cracked the air, and Lucifer staggered back, hand wrenching from Castiel's sternum. Castiel screamed as a crippling, tearing sensation ripped through him. His knees slammed against the asphalt, and then he crumpled onto his side.

"Cas!"

Hands grasped at his arms and shoulders, hauling him up, but he couldn't seem to find his legs. Everything was on fire.

His arms were raised and slung over two pairs of strong shoulders, and then he was being lifted and dragged. Through blurry vision, he saw Lucifer sprawled on the ground, moaning. And then he was turned away, carried through the streets at a rapid, staggering pace, as though they had any hope of outrunning the Devil.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam's heart was jackhammering against his ribs as they fled through the streets of North Platte, Cas sagging between him and Dean. Sam kept throwing harried looks over his shoulder, terrified that Lucifer would be storming after them any second. But while the Colt may not have been able to kill the Devil, it at least knocked him down for a few moments. Hopefully the three bullets Dean shot him with would buy them enough time now to find somewhere to hide.

They stumbled off the curb and crossed the street, Dean steering them toward a diner. Glass crunched under their boots as they pushed their way inside. The interior was trashed, but blinds covered most of the windows, leaving just enough of a view of the street to give them warning if someone approached, and they could head out the back exit into the alley.

Sam's throat constricted when Cas slumped heavier in his grip, a choked groan working past the angel's lips. He didn't think Cas could make it if they had to run again.

He and Dean half carried him around overturned tables and chairs to the back where there was a relatively clear space on the floor. Sam kicked a napkin container out of the way as they eased him down. Cas's face was tight with pain, his eyelids drooping as he barely clung to consciousness.

"Easy, easy," Dean said. He reached for the zipper at Cas's collar and undid the jacket, then frantically pulled the shirt underneath up.

Sam sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth at the circular burn in the center of Cas's chest. The skin around it was red and inflamed, but the wound didn't seem to be bleeding.

"Okay," Dean breathed. "Okay, hang in there, buddy. It's not that bad."

Sam clenched his jaw because it  _was_  that bad; Lucifer had shoved his hand straight into Cas's chest like…Sam didn't even know.

"What was he trying to do?" he pressed.

Cas let out a muffled grunt, face scrunching up under another spasm. "He…my grace."

Dean's face drained of color. "He tried to rip out your grace. Like he did to Uriel."

Sam's eyes widened. Wait, but that had  _killed_  the other angel. "He didn't, right?" he asked Cas in alarm. Yeah, he remembered hearing Cas's panther yowl, and Cas's grace had been spritzing around him, but…

Cas started to shake his head, then grimaced and choked on a stifled moan. "No. Not- not fully. But…I can feel…tears… _ungh_." His back arched, and then he fell completely limp, head lolling to the side.

"Cas? Cas!" Dean leaned forward and patted the angel's cheek urgently.

Sam reached for the pulse point under his jaw and held his breath. "He's got a pulse." He pushed himself to his feet. "There's gotta be some first aid in here somewhere," he said, and started for the kitchen.

It was just as a mess as everything else, but after rifling through some cabinets, he found a first aid kit, complete with supplies for burns, since cooks often had to deal with those. Sam checked the sink, but there was no running water. However, he found a plastic gallon in the back, and some dish rags that didn't look filthy.

Gathering everything in his arms, he brought it all back out to the diner floor. Sam passed Dean the burn cream while he started unwrapping packets of pre-sized gauze patches. It took overlapping three of them to completely cover the wound, and then Sam taped them in place.

He rocked back on his haunches, casting a fearful look out the window.

"Lucifer won't be able to find us," Dean spoke up. "We've got that warding on our ribs."

Sam was suddenly grateful he'd insisted Dean get that when Cas had first brought it up. "Yeah, but he's going to be really pissed when he gets up," he replied. "He might decide to tear this town apart looking for us."

Dean reached up to run a hand down his face, gaze fixed on Cas. "We can't move him like this. And there's no way he'll be able to fly."

Sam's gut clenched as he glanced at the angel, who was still out, tremors running through his muscles. "We can't stay here. There's nothing we can do for a grace injury; we have to get him to Gabriel or Hael."

"How?" Dean asked desperately. "We're six hours from camp, and we don't have the ingredients for a prayer ritual."

Sam's chest constricted as fear and frustration clawed at his lungs. If only they'd driven instead of traveling through the ether. But they'd been in a hurry, worried they might miss their one shot at Lucifer. And now they were stranded without supplies or extra weapons. Not that any number of angel bullets would be of use against the Devil when the friggin' Colt wasn't.

But this whole plan had been stupid, and they'd let their eagerness get the better of their judgement. And now Cas was maybe dying because of it.

"I'll go out and look for a vehicle," Sam said.

Dean visibly stiffened, but Sam barreled on before his brother could protest.

"There shouldn't be any demons around."

"Uh, there's Lucifer."

"Like you said, I'm warded."

"It doesn't make you invisible!" Dean snapped.

Sam spread his arms helplessly. "We can't just wait around for him to eventually find us. Cas doesn't have that kind of time."

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked as he glanced at said angel. "Alright," he finally grunted. He pulled out the Colt and passed it over.

Sam almost wanted to insist Dean keep it in case Lucifer found him and Cas first, but figured it was a nonnegotiable point for his brother, so he accepted it, tucking the antique gun in the back of his waistband.

"I'll be careful," he promised.

Dean nodded gruffly.

Casting one last look at Cas, Sam tore himself away and headed for the door. He paused at the window to scan up and down the street. It was empty. Sam took a deep breath and opened the door just enough to slip outside.

Finding a working car in an abandoned town wasn't going to be as easy as it sounded. Most of the vehicles had been severely damaged; others simply had their gas caps hanging open from when survivors had siphoned off the fuel for themselves. So Sam had to find not only a car with a running engine, but with enough fuel to get them back to camp.

He moved quickly yet cautiously. Despite his assurances to Dean, Sam was nervous about running into the Devil again, especially now. Ever since his trip to retrieve the first Seal, he'd been unable to shake the taunts of the phantom voices saying the demon blood gave him a connection to Lucifer. It had all been part of Gabriel's booby traps, preying on his fears to scare him away from the Seal, but logic didn't banish the whispers in the dark, louder now that he was alone and the Devil was somewhere out here.

Yet there didn't seem to be any sign of Lucifer. Which kind of made Sam more on edge.

He wove his way through detritus as a storm started rolling in. The wind picked up with a bitter chill, and lightning flashed in the distance. Ten seconds later came a low rumble of thunder. Not long after that it started to sprinkle.

Then, a different sound echoed across the sky. Sam looked up, eyes widening as through the darkening clouds, he saw the silhouette of a fulvous dragon banking right to fly off into the distance. Three shimmers of silver shot after him.

Sam's shoulders sagged with a small measure of relief. At least the agents of Heaven and Hell wouldn't be looking for them now. He folded the collar of his jacket up as the rain pattered more forcefully, and pressed on more earnestly.

* * *

Dean rummaged around behind the diner counter, searching for anything that might be of use. There was nothing edible, big surprise, but he'd found a sweatshirt stuffed in the cubby hole underneath the register, which he grabbed and took back to Cas to at least pillow under the angel's head.

The color had steadily been leeching from Cas's complexion, and he'd broken into a cold sweat. Dean picked up one of the cleaner dish rags to mop his brow.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Dean glanced out the window at the sleet sky. He tried not to worry about Sam, but with Lucifer somewhere out there and his little brother alone, Dean wasn't having much success. He turned his attention back to Cas in time to see the angel's eyes sluggishly slide open.

Dean straightened. "Hey, buddy," he said, gently dabbing the rag across Cas's clammy forehead.

Cas's eyes were cloudy and exhausted as he gazed back at him. "Hey," he rasped.

"How you feeling?"

Cas grimaced. "Not…well."

Dean winced in sympathy. "Just hang in there, alright? We'll get you back to the angel compound and Hael will fix you right up."

Cas lolled his gaze around the diner. "Where's Sam?"

"Getting a vehicle."

Cas snapped his gaze back, pupils dilating in alarm. "But, Lucifer—"

"Sam's got the Colt," Dean interrupted.

"The Colt didn't  _work_."

Dean's gut clenched. No, it hadn't. He'd risked them all on a stupid, unverified long shot, had acted on the word of a demon instead of sticking with Gabriel's plan. And he'd dragged Cas along, and now his best friend was…no, Dean wasn't gonna let himself think 'dying.'

"Sam will be fine," Dean said out loud, to assure Cas as much as himself. "Just save your strength while we wait for him."

Cas closed his eyes for a moment, jaw clenching in what looked like pain. Dread carved out a pit in Dean's stomach. He'd seen what Lucifer had done to Uriel, how he'd ripped out the angel's grace and consumed it. That he'd tried to do the same to Cas…god, what kind of damage had the Devil done? Lucifer may not have gotten all of Cas's grace, but Cas was obviously in bad shape.

"I am so sorry," Dean whispered.

Cas's eyelids fluttered open to gaze at him quizzically, and then his expression softened in understanding. "This wasn't your fault."

"It was my idea. I pressured you into coming without thinking it through first. I put you and Sam in danger."

Cas weakly lifted a hand to settle it on Dean's wrist, and the hunter's chest constricted at how the angel didn't even have the strength for the barest grip. "I agreed to come because I thought we had a chance. If anything, I should have known the Colt wouldn't work."

Dean shook his head. "Don't. Don't you dare blame yourself for this."

Cas let out a frail sigh. "I won't if…you won't."

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation even as his heart gave a pang. "Fine. But only because you're playing the sympathy card."

"As long as it works," Cas mumbled, and then fell silent.

Dean folded the dish rag over and continued to press it gently over the angel's brow. He tried not to think too much about how Cas's fingers resting near his other hand were icy to the touch.

"You in pain?" he asked. He doubted the tiny Tylenol packets in the first aid kit would do much on an angel's metabolism, but that burn looked pretty bad.

"No," Cas answered, voice growing fainter. "Not really." He paused for a long moment. "I think I'm cold."

Dean quickly shrugged out of his jacket and his top button-down layer, spreading them over Cas's torso and legs. He couldn't help quirking his lips at the sight.

"Told you I'd get you to wear flannel one day," he joked.

Cas huffed out what sounded like a garbled laugh, but then his face scrunched up with a gasp.

"Okay, easy, easy," Dean soothed, clasping the back of Cas's neck and working his thumb into the corded muscles there. After a few moments, the wave of pain seemed to ebb, and Cas opened his eyes again. His blue irises looked even more dulled now, if that were possible, and Dean had to swallow a surge of fear.

The next breath Cas exhaled wheezed. "Dean, if I don't…"

"Don't say it," he bit out harshly. "That is not even an option."

Cas let out a heavy sigh. "I just meant, tell Gabriel…tell him 'thank you.' For coming back for us. His supposed death devastated Heaven. That was the start, I think, of so many beginning to lose their way." Cas's chest hitched. "He gave us a home again, a purpose. And- and I don't tell him…enough."

A spiky lump settled in Dean's throat. "You can tell him when we get back," he said thickly.

Cas held his gaze for a moment longer before his eyelids fluttered closed and stayed that way.

Dean moved his hand to squeeze Cas's lax one. "I will get you out of here," he promised fiercely.

Lightning flashed outside, reflecting across the walls. Thunder followed less than two seconds later, and rain started pattering the windows. Dean's stomach cramped with worry for Sam, for Cas. He felt so helpless, the so-called protector of Camp Chitaqua. But he couldn't do anything to help his best friend.

Except urge Cas to hang on until they could get him home. Dean kept one hand firmly gripping Cas's as though it could provide an anchor, while he went back to wiping the cold sweat from the angel's damp brow with the other.

The rain was pounding now, splattering the windows and obscuring visibility. Despair began to creep its way into Dean's heart the longer it went on and Sam didn't return. Maybe his brother had run into Lucifer, or a demon. Or maybe he'd just gotten hurt somewhere, but how was Dean supposed to go look for him? He couldn't lose them both…

Something banged from the back of the diner, and Dean jerked ramrod straight. He whipped his gun from its holster and surged to his feet in one smooth movement, eyes narrowed as he crept forward. The hallway was dark, but he heard squishing footsteps coming across the linoleum. Dean raised his gun at the ready and waited.

A dark figure lumbered toward him, and Dean dropped his aim the moment he recognized his brother. Sam was soaking wet, but very much alive and seemingly unhurt.

"What the hell took you so long?" Dean growled.

Sam gave him a sympathetic bitch-face as he brushed sopping hair away from his eyes. "Took a while to find a vehicle I could even get running, and then the roads were so bad in places I had a hard time getting it back here. But it's parked out back and has nearly a full tank of gas."

Dean could have kissed the floor at something going right, for  _once_.

"How's Cas?"

He immediately sobered. "Not good. Any sign of Lucifer?"

"I saw him fly off," Sam replied, following Dean back out to the front of the restaurant. "Looked like some angels came after him, chased him away."

"Then let's go before he shakes them and decides to come back."

Dean knelt down next to Cas and lightly shook his shoulder. "Cas, buddy, wake up. We're getting out of here."

Cas moaned, eyes moving rapidly beneath his lids. Dean patted his cheek.

"Come on, man. Once we get in the car, you can pass out again, I promise."

Dean didn't want to have to resort to a fireman's carry, as that would rub against the raw burn on Cas's chest.

Cas finally peeled his eyelids open and blinked blearily at them. "Sam, are you alright?" he croaked.

"I'm fine," Sam assured him. "Can you walk? It's just a short distance."

"I'll try."

Dean pulled his shirt and jacket off of Cas and draped them over his elbow, then reached down to grip the angel under one arm while Sam grabbed the other. On three, they hefted Cas to his feet, and nearly lost their balance when he continued to pitch forward from the momentum.

"Easy, easy," Dean repeated as he and Sam turned to half carry the angel out the back door.

A black SUV was parked in the alley, the engine idling. Cas slipped on the wet ground, but Dean tried to hurry to keep Cas from getting soaked in the rain. Sam opened the back door and they helped Cas climb inside. The angel immediately collapsed in the backseat. Dean leaned in to drape his coat and shirt over Cas again, and then told Sam he was going to grab the water and first aid too.

Sam nodded, and climbed in beside Cas to get him situated while Dean jogged back into the diner to retrieve the supplies. It wasn't much, but it would be a long drive, and there was no telling if they'd run into complications along the way.

Sam was in the passenger's seat when he came back out. Dean stowed the first aid kit and two plastic gallons of water at his brother's feet, and then went around to climb in behind the wheel. He glanced over his shoulder at Cas, who seemed unconscious again and was quivering even underneath the extra layers.

Dean cranked the heater up all the way and looked at Sam, who was even more soaked and starting to shiver. Crap, and they didn't have a change of clothes.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," Sam replied resolutely.

Dean put the car in drive and eased the SUV out of the alleyway. "Just don't get pneumonia on me," he said under his breath. He paused as he surveyed the street before giving the engine more gas. "And, Sam, nice work."

He spared a brief glance at his brother, whose mouth quirked slightly as he nodded in return.

"I just hope it's in time," he whispered soberly.

Dean's gaze hardened. It would be. He'd make sure of that.

The windshield wipers squeaked but were functional. Sam was right; the roads were horrendous, but it wasn't far to the highway, and from there, it was empty sailing. Dean's stomach tightened as he realized they'd be traveling after dark, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Dean would mow down anything that tried to get in their way.


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel stood over the maps of the world spread out on the war room table, arms crossed and fist tucked under his chin as he stared at the numerous x's taking up the grids. All places the Seals were  _not_. He was getting frustrated. The whole garrison was feeling frustrated, Gabriel could tell. The Seals had been his idea, and granted, the only one they had to combat the Apocalypse. But that just meant that their failure packed more of a despondent punch.

"Do you think Michael or Raphael would have retrieved them if they knew we were looking for them?" Anna asked.

Gabriel shook his head, at a loss. "Maybe."

Good luck getting into Heaven to steal them.

He sighed. "Let's give it a rest for a bit, come back tomorrow with fresh eyes."

Anna pursed her mouth. "When's the last time you had a sparring session?"

Gabriel arched a dubious brow. "Are you calling me out of shape?"

She gave him a smug smirk. "It was just an invitation. Unless you feel you are out of shape."

He snorted. "Please. I—"

The front door to the underground pocket dimension banged open. "Gabriel!"

He spun at the familiar voice of Dean Winchester as the human came barreling in, and the look of terror on his face somehow filled Gabriel's veins with ice. "What's wrong?"

"It's Cas," he gasped out. "Hurry."

Gabriel didn't wait for further explanation, immediately leaping into action and following the human back through the portal into a wooded area set in the central United States. There was a black SUV pulled up just outside, with Sam standing at the open back door. Gabriel's stomach dropped out from under him as he drew closer to get a look inside. Castiel was laid out across the seat, eyes closed, breathing shallow. He looked like death warmed over.

"What happened?" Gabriel demanded as he surged forward and started to pull Castiel out of the vehicle.

"Lu- Lucifer," Sam stammered.

Gabriel's brows shot upward. " _What?_ " How the hell had they ended up running into the Devil?

"He tried to rip out Cas's grace," Dean said, voice raw.

Gabriel's heart seized, and he turned to Anna who had followed him out. "Get Hael."

Anna's eyes were wide, but she spun and ran back inside.

Gabriel slipped one arm beneath Castiel's shoulders and the other under his knees, and then hefted him out of the car. Castiel's head lolled limply against him. Gabriel carried his little brother back into the compound and straight to the infirmary, the Winchesters on his heels. Gasps went up among the other angels as they scrambled to get out of the way.

Hael and Anna were just running in from the opposite corridor when Gabriel reached the infirmary. He laid Castiel on one of the cots.

"What are his injuries?" Hael asked sternly.

"They said Lucifer tried to rip out his grace," Gabriel replied, jaw tight at the implications. That kind of attack…it was unheard of. Barbaric. Gabriel took in his baby brother's ashen pallor and felt like his heart was about to be clawed out of his chest.

Hael looked terrified, but she swallowed hard and knelt down next to the cot.

"He's got a burn on his chest," Dean spoke up.

Brow furrowing, Hael paused to lift Castiel's shirt. His torso was bandaged, so she picked at the edges of the tape and peeled it up, revealing a circular burn right in the middle of Castiel's solar plexus. She immediately held a hand out over it, bluish-white grace suffusing from her palm into a butterfly's lavender tinged wings.

Gabriel pivoted back to the Winchesters, who were watching with openly worried and devastated expressions. He cocked his head at Anna to follow so they could give Hael room to work, and together they ushered Sam and Dean just outside the room.

"What exactly happened?" Gabriel asked. They were supposed to have gone to a rogue demon's lair to retrieve the second Seal. "Was it a trap?"

Why hadn't he sent additional soldiers with them? Castiel had reported the place was warded against angels, and he'd need the Winchesters to penetrate its defenses, but Gabriel should have sent more backup anyway.

The brothers exchanged what looked like a guilty glance.

"No," Dean said, voice rough with emotion. "We got the Seal. But also…"

"The Colt," Sam stepped in. "We thought it could kill Lucifer, and we knew where he was going to be…"

Anna stared at them incredulously. "You went after him on  _purpose_?" she exclaimed.

Gabriel mentally reeled back. They had…oh, father help him, he didn't know whether to yell or smite them for being so  _stupid_. He should ream Castiel's ass for such an idiotic plan, too! Gabriel's chest constricted as he glanced over his shoulder at Hael, head bowed over their wounded brother.

Pounding footsteps came running up the passage, and Balthazar pushed his way past the gathering crowd of other angels. He cast a questioning look around before his gaze went past them all and landed on the cot inside the infirmary.

"Is he…?"

"We don't know yet," Anna answered.

"We tried to get him back here as fast as we could," Dean spoke up again, eyes wavering. "Gabriel, I am so sorry. We thought the Colt would work."

Gabriel closed his eyes in dismay. There were five things in all creation that gun couldn't kill, and an archangel was one of them. But few knew that tidbit, not even most angels. If Gabriel had known that weapon was even in play, he would have  _told_  them not to bother…

_Dammit, Castiel, why didn't you come to me first?_

Because Castiel was an ardent soldier, and if he saw an opportunity to defeat the enemy and end all of this, of course he would take it, especially if he thought he had to act quickly. Gabriel was both proud and furious at him.

"Gabriel, I need you in here!" Hael suddenly shouted.

He whipped back around and rushed inside to find Hael's face drawn in panic.

"Everything's crashing and I can't hold it all. I need you to take over for his heart."

Gabriel's own skipped a beat as he dropped down on Castiel's other side and pressed a hand against his brother's chest. He could feel Castiel's stuttering heart on the verge of giving out.

_Oh no you don't_.

Gabriel pushed a surge of grace into his fading brother and forced that organ to keep pumping. It wasn't a permanent fix, though, just a placeholder while Hael worked on healing Castiel's other vital systems.

With one hand over the burn, she sent a wispy butterfly down to sink into his core and touch his grace, while the other moved light fingers to brush his forehead, another tiny butterfly gliding across his brow. Hael's eyes were squeezed shut in concentration, but after several long moments, she removed her hands and rocked back, utter anguish on her face.

"What is it?" Gabriel demanded.

She shook her head. "There's too much damage. I- I can't heal it."

"What?" Dean blurted, pushing his way into the room. Sam, Anna, and Balthazar piled in after him. "You have to heal him!" the older Winchester nearly shouted.

"I don't understand," Sam pressed. "Why not?"

Hael's eyes glistened. "Entire chunks of Castiel's grace have been ripped out. The damage is too extensive for me to…" She seemed to struggle for the right metaphor. "Stitch."

"Well, won't he get better on his own?" Dean said desperately. "He just needs time, right?"

Hael's expression fell. "His entire system is in shock from the trauma and can't heal itself." She hesitated. "He's barely holding on as it is."

Gabriel felt his heart fracturing, and he dropped his gaze to his brother, the one whose heart Gabriel currently held beating in his hands. Castiel's face was chalky white, dark bruises under his eyes. He was already slipping away.

"So he needs more grace?" Sam asked.

"A transfusion," Balthazar exclaimed. "I volunteer."

Hael shook her head regretfully. "It won't work. Our essences aren't compatible in that way."

The last dregs of hope were slipping through Gabriel's fingers as through a sieve, but he maintained his grace in a pulsing cocoon around Castiel's heart, encouraging it to keep beating. Maybe if they helped him along, for however long it took…he could recover eventually.

"Would some of Cas's own grace work?" Dean said suddenly.

Hael frowned. "Of course. But—"

"Can you extract what was left in me, from when Cas healed me?"

Hael blinked, and Gabriel straightened at the absurd notion…or maybe not so absurd. He turned to Hael. "Can you?"

Her mouth moved soundlessly for a moment. "I…don't know. I suppose I could." She shook her head again. "It'd be such a small amount."

"But it'd be healthy," Sam put in, pressing forward to stand next to his brother. "And I have some, too. Between the two of us and that grace being undamaged by Lucifer, it'll at least give Cas a chance, right?"

Hael fidgeted as every set of eyes in the room turned to her expectantly. She nodded. "I believe so, yes. But an extraction like that won't be easy. At the very least, it will probably be painful."

"But since you're a healer, if something did go wrong, you could heal us without having to infuse your grace the way Cas did, right?" Sam checked.

Hael thought about it for a second, and then nodded. "Right."

"Then let's do it," Dean declared.

Gabriel turned his gaze back to Castiel's lax face.  _You hear that, kiddo? We're gonna fix this. Just stay with me_.

Gabriel kept his grace securely around his little brother's heart, counting out each measured beat as Hael prepared the Winchesters for the procedure.

* * *

Hael swallowed nervously as she knelt on the floor beside the cot Dean Winchester had laid down on. She'd never done anything like this before, and there was a lot riding on her succeeding—mainly, the life of her brother. She could feel everyone's eyes trained on her, and wished she could tell them all to go away, but she knew they were just worried. And hoping.

Taking a centering breath, she reached out to hold a hand over Dean's chest. Unlike the others, he was looking straight up at the ceiling as though trying to brace himself for what was to come. Hael extended her grace, the soft luster of her butterfly spreading its wings to glide down and alight on the human's sternum. He tensed, but her touch was gentle. She eased her grace to seep into his core.

The human essence was a vibrant medley of dazzling auras. Hael had always found that part of them fascinating—the colors. Dean Winchester's was numerous shades of brilliant green, from deep, dark forest to pale jade, with emerald in between.

But that wasn't what she was there for. Hael sent out her grace in search of the crystalline blue tenor of an angel's essence. She found a thread of it, then another. Castiel had literally stitched Dean Winchester back together, infusing his grace nearly  _everywhere_ …

Hael stopped, and retracted her butterfly.

"What is it?" Balthazar asked. "Why'd you stop?"

A lump started forming in her throat, the defeat palpable. "Castiel's grace, it's- it's woven into his soul."

Dean sat up from the cot. "What does that mean?"

She gave him a sad look. "It means I can't extract it without taking bits of your soul with it." She shook her head. It wasn't fair. All this garrison cared about was helping people, doing what was right. And the longer they fought for good, the more soldiers they lost. Hael couldn't bear it.

"What about me?" Sam spoke up.

Hael got to her feet and walked over to him. He towered over her small form, and she had to reach up to settle a hand over the center of his chest. After extending her grace to do a cursory inspection, she pulled back in dismay.

"It's the same."

Perhaps from all the exercises she knew the three of them had done trying to strengthen the bond between them, but she wouldn't say that. Guilt was radiating from the Winchesters enough as it was.

A heavy, disheartened silence fell over the room like a tangible pall.

Dean cleared his throat. "Okay, well, will that hurt Cas?"

Hael frowned. "Will what?"

"Bits of our souls getting transferred. Will that hurt him?"

She blinked, taken aback by the question. "Actually…I don't believe so. His grace has been woven into them for so long that I think it's become…acclimated. But we're talking about your  _souls_. They're not meant to be splintered off."

"Will there be any permanent damage?" Dean asked, apparently undaunted.

Hael just gaped at him. Was he serious?

She managed to give the matter some thought. "Well…I don't  _think_  so… I mean, there's no precedence for this, but…" She pursed her mouth, afraid she'd be wrong.

"But what?" Gabriel prompted.

"Well…it's essentially the opposite of what Castiel did in the first place—infusing some of his grace into them. Siphoning off the small amount didn't hurt him. And, since it created a profound bond…" Hael hesitated, glancing at the looks of desperate hope on everyone's faces, and finally settling on Sam and Dean, who, despite the risks, were nothing but adamant and devoted to saving her brother.

"I think that bond will make it work," she finished. "Because you two won't actually be losing bits of your souls, just…relocating them."

Dean and Sam exchanged a wordless look, and then Dean lay back down on the cot, arms at his sides. "Do it."

Hael made her way back over and knelt on the floor again. "Would you like me to put you out for this?"

"No." Dean flicked a look at the cot just on the other side of her where Castiel lay, barely clinging to life.

Hael reached out her hands and summoned forth her grace animal yet again. This had to work.

She would make it work.

* * *

Castiel floated in a sea of warm auras. They ebbed and flowed around him, with soft murmurs sometimes accompanying them. Sometimes when they receded, a vicious chill tried to seep in, but it didn't stay long before a fresh surge of glowing warmth pulsed into a cradling embrace. There was a constant thrum of golden light.  _Gabriel?_  And a soothing kiss of lavender and wind chimes.  _Hael_. And…swirling green and saffron whose chords Castiel knew by heart.

He wanted to reach out to them, to find out where they were, where he was. But he couldn't seem to find his physical form. Or eyes. Why not? What was wrong with him?

_"Shh, you're okay,"_  the golden sphere holding him vibrated.

Castiel started to twist and writhe, but a glistering butterfly swooped down and folded gossamer wings around him.

_"Sleep, Castiel."_

He did.

Voices faded in and out, indistinct, yet all somehow comforting in their familiarity.

_"It's working."_

_"His heart's still weak."_

_"He's not out of the woods yet."_

_"Would you like me to take over?"_

_"How are Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"_

_"Still sleeping."_

_"Hey, Cas. You keep fighting, you hear me?"_

Castiel drifted among the soothing burble.

The next time awareness returned, he found he had eyes again, though they were heavy as he struggled to open them. He felt weighted down, as though someone had pumped his marrow full of lead. It was a decidedly unpleasant sensation.

When he did finally manage to pry his eyelids open, all he saw was blurry pastel colors and the light made his aching head throb worse. Discomfited by the sudden and overwhelming feeling of vulnerability, he tried to move.

A firm hand settled on his shoulder. "Easy, kiddo. Take it slow."

Gabriel? Castiel tried to speak, but found his tongue was too thick and his mouth felt like cotton. A muffled moan was all he could seem to get out.

"Here." A dark shape shifted on his left, and then a hand was cupping the back of his head and lifting it slightly as another brought the rim of a cup to his lips. Cool water trickled into his mouth, and Castiel started to drink greedily. Gabriel took it away before he'd quenched his thirst.

"Just a little bit to start," the archangel said. "You've been through the wringer."

Castiel let his eyes slip closed again. That certainly felt accurate.

"Sam and Dean?" he rasped.

"Getting something to eat. They've spent most of the past three days commandeering two of our cots in here."

Castiel forced his eyes open again. "Were they hurt?"

"No." Gabriel paused. "They were worried about you. We've all been taking turns sitting in here. You almost died, you know."

Now that his vision was adjusting, Castiel could see the dark look in his brother's eyes.

Castiel swallowed thickly. "Are you angry?"

"At the fact that we almost lost you, yes. And at Lucifer for…" Gabriel gritted his teeth and shook his head. "I'm not mad at you, though. Or those two knuckleheads, believe it or not. Sam and Dean told me everything that happened. It was stupid, but you all meant well."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said quietly.

Gabriel reached over to lift his head and let him drink more of the water. Even that small effort was exhausting, and Castiel dropped back on the pillow with a wince.

"How bad is it?" he managed to ask.

"Like I said, you've been through the wringer. Whole chunks of your grace were ripped out."

Castiel felt a phantom burn in his chest from when Lucifer had shoved a hand into him and hooked searing talons into his grace. Even now, he felt as though he'd been flayed.

"But your grace is healing," Gabriel went on before Castiel could start to panic about being permanently injured. "It's gonna take time, though, to recover from all the trauma. The good news is that Hael thinks the slivers of the Winchesters' souls are giving your grace a boost."

Castiel's eyes snapped wide. "The what?"

"Ah, perhaps I should have started at the beginning. Hael extracted the bit of your grace that was left behind after you healed both of them. Like a transfusion, if you will. There was the unfortunate side effect of splintering a little of their souls with it, but hey, it worked."

" _Gabriel_ ," Castiel sputtered in horror.

The archangel rolled his eyes. "Relax. There's no permanent damage. It was actually their idea." He folded his arms across his chest smugly. "Worrying, isn't it? When people go to  _extreme_  lengths for something that has the potential to endanger themselves."

Castiel cringed. "I thought you weren't still upset about that."

"I'm not. If anything, I understand better why you did it. As long as  _you_  understand how things like that make the rest of us feel."

Castiel ducked his gaze, properly chastised.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Gabriel leaned forward and patted his arm. "I'm just glad you're going to be okay." A sad, haunted look flickered in his eyes, which Castiel felt bad for being the cause of.

The sound of a commotion drew their gazes to the entryway.

"I'm telling you, I felt something," Dean's voice drifted through as he, Sam, and Balthazar came into the infirmary, and then pulled up short.

Balthazar crossed his arms. "Look who's finally awake," he said with a cheeky grin.

Castiel couldn't help but smile tiredly back at them. "Yes. Finally."

Dean and Sam hurried forward, and Gabriel stood up to retreat and give them space. Both brothers crowded into the aisle beside him, faces alight with relieved smiles.

"Hey, Cas," Sam breathed, sinking down to the floor and reaching out to squeeze his hand. He tried to return the grip, though it was somewhat lacking in strength.

Dean knelt next to his shoulder. "How you doin'?"

"I'm alive, thanks to you two." Castiel paused, emotions welling up inside him. "Gabriel told me what you did for me."

"You've done the same for us," Dean instantly replied.

"Still, yours was the bigger sacrifice."

The older Winchester shook his head firmly. "It wasn't a sacrifice, Cas. Not to save you."

Castiel smiled; that was no less than what he'd considered his own actions once upon a time.

Dean's mouth quirked almost mischievously. "'Course, it does mean you're stuck being bonded to us now. No take-backsies, even if you wanted to."

Castiel blinked. The bond?

"It was quite curious," Balthazar spoke up from behind them. "Dean sensed Castiel was awake."

"I didn't know he was awake," the hunter corrected. "I just felt that something had changed."

Castiel furrowed his brow in surprise. It hadn't even occurred to him that the bond would still be intact, what with his grace having been removed from the two of them…but if bits of their souls had been transferred to him in reverse…he supposed it made sense.

And he couldn't deny that he took some comfort and relief in knowing that the bond was still there. He'd gotten used to it, after all, and it meant more now than the unintentional accident it'd started out as.

"That means we'll have to continue our meditation sessions," he pointed out to Dean.

Sam bit back a grin while Dean scoffed good-naturedly.

"You've gotta get back on your feet first."

Castiel conceded that point with a tired nod. He had a long recovery ahead of him, but he was alive, and home, and surrounded by family whom he loved and cherished and who loved and cherished him in return.

With that, he could get through anything.

…

NEXT TIME

"Line up!" Gabriel shouted, doing a quick mental count of who was here. Only half of the garrison, and he couldn't wait in order to call everyone back.

"What's going on?" Anna asked urgently.

"I found the last two Seals," he replied. "Or, well, I know who's going to lead us to them. But we have to move now."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another stunning piece of art by 29Pieces. And yes, that entire picture was done in fine tip DOTS.


End file.
